


Us Three (and a bottle of wine)

by ClassyFangirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Violence, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Mentions of Sex, Multi, Threesome- M/F/M, beginning relationships, spoilers for 3.10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/pseuds/ClassyFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Argent saves Melissa McCall and Sheriff Stilinski, and they, in turn, save him. Or, three people who have loved and lost in Beacon Hills bond over parenthood, werewolves, and wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Us Three (and a bottle of wine)

**Author's Note:**

> I've used the headcanon of John as the Sheriff's name simply because it is difficult to write about romance and refer to one character constantly by their job title.

They can hear the sounds of fighting above them and Melissa knows, with a mother’s instinct, that Scott is up there for sure. She squeezes her eyes shut, listening to growls and yelling and bodies slamming against dirt.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until John says, concerned but with that stability she’s always admired, “Hey, hey- it’ll be all right. That’s our boys, they’ll- they’ll be okay.”

He’s crying too, and it breaks her heart. She doesn’t remember the last time she was this scared- not even for herself, not really, but for Scott, and for Stiles, and for Allison, and for Isaac- because she’s sure, suddenly, that they’re up there fighting too.

There’s a rush of footsteps coming down the stairs, and Melissa cranes her neck to see Chris Argent holstering a pistol. “We’re gonna get you outta here,” he says, kneeling next to Melissa, a knife sawing through the ropes.

“The kids,” she says. “Are they-?”

“They’re just fine,” he says, but there’s a grimace on his face.

“Stiles,” John says. “He’s-”

“Holding his own, trust me,” Chris replies. Something of a smirk appears. “Said he needed a new baseball bat, got him a new baseball bat, and he’s going to town.” The rope binding Melissa to the pole gives way and Chris moves to John’s ropes. “That’s a tough boy you got there, Sheriff.” He smiles, just lips quirking upward, at Melissa. “Scott, too.”

There’s a girl’s bloodcurdling scream. It practically knocks the oxygen out of the cellar. “Jesus,” Melissa says, scrambling to her feet. “Who was that- _what_ was that?”

Chris shoots his eyes upward. “Lydia Martin, if I understood Allison,” he says. “You know, for a time, I thought werewolves were the craziest of my problems.”

They all run up the stairs a minute too late, it seems. Derek Hale is kneeling over the body of a black-robed figure with a mutilated face- Jennifer Blake, Melissa assumes –and his hands are covered in blood. Scott, his shirt bloodied, presses a hand to the man’s shoulder. Isaac shifts back to a more human face, and Allison lowers her bow as Lydia wraps a hand around her arm. It’s Stiles who notices them first. “Dad!” he yells, dropping his baseball bat, and he runs to John and pulls him into a hug.

Melissa is quickly swept into a bear hug by Scott and Isaac, and Chris throws an arm around Allison and Lydia’s shoulders. Melissa can’t help but laugh a little in her relief, and she presses a kiss to both Scott and Isaac’s foreheads. She glances over to John, who is hugging Stiles so fiercely she worries he might break something. His eyes are full of tears and he is staring at a spot on the ground a few yards away. Melissa follows his gaze and her heart breaks like it did that night she first saw Scott’s eyes flash yellow.

Stiles’ bat is bloody.

They all stand there in silence for a long, long time. It’s the start of a new chapter in their lives- one that looks terrifying, but will be, against all odds, full of love.

*

There’s still an Alpha pack, and there’s always a new problem in Beacon Hills, but things settle into a routine. Now that they’re all on the same page, things are easier for Chris, Melissa, and John. Chris consults on cases the police can’t pin on human deeds, and Melissa makes sure all of the kids stay patched up and as safe as she can manage. And once a week, the three of them meet for drinks.

“I have yet to find a decent bottle of wine in this town,” Chris says. “Maybe I’ll break my streak tonight. White or red?”

“Red,” Melissa and John say. They have the benefit of having known each other long enough, had enough late night talks fussing over their teenage boys, that they know each other’s taste in wine like they know their own. Hearing them talk in unison makes Chris smile a little, and he shakes his head slightly, like he’s amused, as he pours the Merlot.

They always drink at the Argent apartment, simply because it’s less likely to be crowded with teenagers plotting attacks and eating all of the snack food. While the Sheriff has adjusted remarkably well to the existence of werewolves (and banshees and druids and kanimas- though that’s less of a problem these days), seeing Stiles talk about bashing Deucalion’s head in makes the light in his eyes go out. Melissa can’t say she blames him.

“You know what goes well with Merlot?” Chris asks. “Roasted mushrooms.”

And suddenly, weekly drinks becomes weekly dinner. Every Friday night, Melissa leaves Scott (and, inevitably, Stiles and Isaac and sometimes Derek, which is getting a little weird) money for pizza and she meets John outside the Argents’ apartment building. And inside, Chris is cooking something wonderful. “It’s just something I threw together,” he says in that low, handsome voice, and it tastes delicious every time. They eat and drink and drink and _drink_ and it’s such an incredible escape from reality that Melissa could almost forget that werewolves exist.

*

They’re tipsy on wine and full of a delicious pasta dinner that Melissa wants to eat every night when she changes things. She didn’t start the night thinking _now we change everything_ but after glass after glass of wine, she is warm and the world has gone soft and fuzzy on the edges and she is deeply attracted to the two men she’s sitting with. So Melissa puts a hand on John’s thigh and kisses him when he turns to look at her. It’s a surprise for the both of them, but John returns the kiss readily, years of friendship taking a new path.

Chris looks deeply embarrassed when they break apart, like he’s intruding on something, and Melissa just _has_ to kiss him too.

“I…” Chris sighs quietly when they break apart. “I just lost my wife.”

It ought to be awkward- Melissa just kissed two men sitting across from one another in the space of a minute and one of them is a recent widower –but for some reason, it isn’t. John just gives Chris a sympathetic look.

“It doesn’t stop hurting,” John says softly. “But it…hurts less. After a while.” That’s when he, too, leans across the table and kisses Chris. He’s very hesitant, less sure of himself than Melissa, but Chris kisses back.

Melissa smiles warmly at the both of them. “I can’t remember the last time I was this happy,” she says.

“You know,” John says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “neither can I.”

Chris pauses, then shakes his head silently. “I guess not.” He looks deeply sad in a way that Melissa can’t stand to see on his handsome face. She reaches across the table and holds his hand.

The world makes sense, somehow.

*

It takes a while for Chris to get truly comfortable with it all, still so freshly mourning, but John and Melissa know a thing or two about loss, and they’re there for him.

“We’ll go slow with it,” Melissa says one day early on, when they’re curled together on the Stilinskis’ couch, Chris sandwiched between the two of them. “As slow as you like. Whatever makes it easier- less touching, or-”

“No,” Chris says. His face is flushed, and it looks so innocent on him. “I’m…I’m all right with this. How it is now.” He gently eases his hand into John’s and he puts an arm over Melissa’s shoulders. “Slow, to start. But I’ll…I’ll get there.”

“Take as long as you need,” John says, squeezing their hands together. He chuckles quietly. “Hell, I’m pretty new to this too. I haven’t had…anyone. Since.” He shrugs awkwardly.

“Me neither,” Melissa says. “Well. I almost went on a date with Peter Hale, once.” She waves a hand at their sour expressions. “I know, I know. Cut me some slack! I didn’t know about any of… _this_ at the time. Anyway- it was different for me, so I can’t stay I understand completely, but…” Melissa smiles and leans her head against Chris’ shoulder. “We’ll adjust together.”

And they do. Incredibly, remarkably, they do. It’s nights of frantic make-outs and slow, easy handjobs and Chris and John taking turns with their faces between Melissa’s thighs and her legs thrown over their shoulders. And every Friday, there’s wine and dinner.

*

The kids don’t realize what’s going on until Scott, Stiles, and Isaac get back to the McCalls’ after school one day and Chris is straddling John’s hips, kissing him with everything he has while Melissa watches, smiling, her hand halfway down her panties.

Scott and Isaac freeze where they stand, still and silent as the grave, while Stiles makes a horrified choking noise.

“Oh, sh- boys,” Melissa says, buttoning her jeans, “it’s- it’s not what you think, we were just-”

Stiles makes the choked sound again. “I don’t know _what_ I think,” Isaac says, brow furrowing.

“I’m telling Allison!” Scott yells as he drags Stiles and Isaac back out of the house.

“Shit,” Chris mutters. “That…could’ve gone better.”

“Really?” Melissa says. “I think I reacted better to finding out my son is a _werewolf_.”

John, for his part, just looks silently bewildered until he looks up at Chris. “Look, I’m having a hard time taking this conversation seriously while you’re still sitting there."

Chris slides off. They’re both still half-hard in their pants and Melissa is slick but _damn,_ she just feels…dirty. And not in the fun way. “We should talk to them,” she says.

“Separately?” Chris asks.

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to stand in the same room together and expect them to hear a word we say,” John sighs.

*

“Sometimes,” Melissa says, “instead of _two_ people loving each other very much, there’s _three_ people-”

Scott buries his face in his hands. “Mr. Stilinski I understand,” he says. “But _Allison’s dad_? Mom, _please_.”

“At least you’re not dating her anymore,” Isaac says. “I mean. You’ve got that going for you.”

“You see? Isaac’s on my side.”

“Isaac’s not your biological son,” Scott moans.

Isaac shrugs. “He’s got you there. Could you go on about the three people thing? What?” he asks when Scott pins him with a venomous look. “I’m preparing for the future.”

*

“Allison-”

“No.”

“Please-”

“Nope.”

“ _Allison_ -”

“I don’t care! It’s- it’s fine!”

“…It is?”

“Sure! No! I don’t know! I just don’t want to hear about your sex life with my ex-boyfriend’s _mother_ and his best friend’s _dad_!”

“…Fair enough.”

*

“I don’t care that you’re dating again,” Stiles says. “Like, I’m totally psyched that you’re dating Mrs. McCall, she’s awesome. Less pumped about Mr. Argent, but that’s…that’s your thing. Whatever.”

“All right. Then…what’s our problem?”

Stiles sighs. “I just wasn’t prepared to see a guy sticking his tongue down your throat, okay? Seeing that changes a man.”

“Kid, I’ve seen you do _lots_ of things that can change a man forever.”

He means all the times he’s walked in on Stiles watching _very_ strange porn, but the moment he says it, their minds go elsewhere. They both see the bloody baseball bat, abandoned by that old tree stump. “Well. Yeah.” Stiles rubs the back of his neck. “I guess we’re on equal ground there.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Dad. It’s all right.” Stiles half smiles at him. “I mean it.”

“...You’re sure?”

“ _Yes,_ Dad.” Stiles hugs him tightly. “Just no dry-humping on the couch.”

“Don’t be gross.”

“You started it.”

“Touché.”

*

Their lives aren’t perfect, still muddled by werewolves, murders, and good old-fashioned teenage hormones, but it’s something. It’s something every time Chris smiles and it reaches his eyes. It’s something every time Stiles smiles and waves awkwardly at them tangled up together, watching a movie, when he comes downstairs for a soda. It’s something every time Scott doesn’t look horrified.

It’s something really special that none of them has had in a long time.


End file.
